


run away for a couple years (just to prove I’ve never been free)

by bossy



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), F/M, M/M, Madame Tracy has a vulva (Good Omens), Minor Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens), Pegging, Pining, Rimming, Top Madame Tracy (Good Omens), no explicit sex between Crowley and Aziraphale, one-sided Crowley/Aziraphale, the explicit sex is all f/m
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24342304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossy/pseuds/bossy
Summary: Crowley hires Madame Tracy, but he really wants Aziraphale instead.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Madame Tracy (Good Omens), Crowley/Madame Tracy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	run away for a couple years (just to prove I’ve never been free)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm bossy, and this is my first offering to this fandom. I kind of feel like I should apologize.
> 
> Mention of infertility.
> 
> Title from "Hollow Moon (Bad Wolf)" by AWOLNATION.

It’s dark in Madame Tracy’s room, curtains drawn, lights off at Crowley’s request. Through a sliver of open curtain, she can see the moon, waning crescent.

She tongues at Crowley’s bare neck as he groans, drawing her closer to him on the bed.

“You’re being so good for me,” she whispers, lips brushing his ear. “So patient.”

Crowley shudders weakly.

“Nrgh,” Crowley says, thrusting up into her fingers where they’re curled loosely around his cock.

She ghosts the fingers of her other hand down his bare chest, easing down on the bed until she’s eye level with his hard, dripping cock.

“So handsome,” she purrs, jerking him off slowly, languidly. “I think I’d like a taste.”

“Not, ah, not today,” Crowley says, and his face is suddenly flushed with a warmth that travels down his chest.

“Oh,” Madame Tracy says, catching his meaning. “You want something better. Aren’t I the lucky gal?”

She cups his sack gently, then moves her hand lower, pressing the tip of her middle finger against his hole. He shudders.

“How would you like me today?” Madame Tracy asks gently. “Will you miracle yourself open, or should I take my time, stretch you open bit by bit?”

“Please,” Crowley whimpers.

“If you don’t want my tongue on your cock, perhaps I can put it to use elsewhere,” Madame Tracy says.

She lets go of Crowley’s cock and he lifts his hips up, following the sensation. Madame Tracy settles between his legs, spreads his cheeks with one hand and kisses his opening, softly, close-mouthed.

“Someone’s sake, don’t tease,” Crowley says, leaning back, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Hmm,” Madame Tracy hums against his skin, then opens her lips, licks his hole in earnest.

Crowley gasps when she circles her tongue hard against him, then again, licking back and forth against his opening, working up a rhythm before licking into him.

“Yesss,” he hisses out as she ventures her tongue deeper.

She’s never done this with anyone else. Back when she was in her prime — although she’s still, of course, very nearly in her prime — it hadn’t even been socially acceptable to do this to a woman, nonetheless a man.

So it comes as a surprise that she likes this. But then again, Madame Tracy has always liked having power over men, and this is just another way to do it. She tongues into him again, enjoying the way he squirms and moans.

But this is just an appetizer, and Crowley, she knows, is eager for the main course. She tongues his hole one last time then draws back, sits up, scoots across the bed so she can rummage in the drawer of her bedside table.

Ever since Crowley first showed up at her door, asking whether or not she was retired, she’s taken to storing anal-safe lube here, alongside all the wrapped condoms and her favorite vibrator, eleven inches long and bubblegum pink. She coats her fingers in the lube, then coats them more, then more still.

“You know I’ll just miracle more if it gets uncomfortable,” Crowley says, watching her.

“Lord knows you pay me enough for me to do this right,” Madame Tracy says, positioning herself between his legs again.

“Don’t see why you won’t accept more than you do,” Crowley says. “’M a demon. You could have anything you wanted. I could open up your womb again, give you and Shadwell a family.”

“I know better than to let a demon have anything to do with my firstborn,” she says primly, touching his hole with her very lubed fingers.

“Come on,” Crowley says as she pushes the tip of one finger inside. “You can — ohh, yes — you can trust me.”

“Shadwell’s all the family I need,” she says distractedly, pushing the finger inside Crowley to the knuckle.

“Whatever you say,” Crowley says, leaning back on his elbows, watching her intently with his large yellow eyes.

She likes this part, feeling the inside of him, tight and hot around her fingers. Most men just want to get inside of her; it feels right to turn the tables sometimes. She sinks her finger in completely, thrusting it in and out slowly until Crowley bites down on his bottom lip, silencing a moan.

“More?” she asks, even though she’s already pretty sure she knows the answer.

“Heaven, yes,” Crowley purrs.

She eases in a second finger, feeling the impossible tightness of Crowley around her. It’s hard to believe she’ll be able to fit in a third finger, not to mention her thick, heavy strap-on. But soon the tightness dissipates a bit, enough for her to thrust in and out more easily, enough for her to scissor her fingers inside him and open him up even more.

Crowley is still watching her, gaze silky smooth, panting softly as he meets her eyes.

“More,” he says, voice deep and hungry.

Her third finger slides in a little more easily, then the fourth — she has petite hands, and she wouldn’t want the strap-on to burn too much when it goes in — and she loses herself in the rhythm, the thrust.

“You can stop,” Crowley pants out. “I’m ready.”

Madame Tracy’s strap-on harness is in a box full of sex toys underneath her bed, and she gets up, digging through a sea of heart-shaped butt plugs and vibrating cock rings until she finds it. It’s a mess of buckles and tangled straps, and she takes a minute to shake the thing out before trying to step into it.

Madame Tracy isn’t one to feel self-conscious. But there’s something about Crowley’s unblinking snake eyes on her that has her looking away as she adjusts the straps around her thighs, clearing her throat softly.

In the middle of the harness, right over her vulva, there’s an O-ring connected to an eight-inch dildo made of sturdy silicone, black as night. Crowley’s gaze drifts down to look at it, and he licks his lips. Underneath the O-ring, there’s a little velvet pocket that holds a bullet vibrator, snug against her upper labia and her clitoris. Madame Tracy reaches down and turns the vibrator on, sets it to the lowest setting.

She jumps a bit as the vibrations sing through her sensitive flesh. Even on the lowest setting, the vibrations are enough to throw her off, to disrupt her focus on giving Crowley everything he paid for and to introduce the idea of her, maybe, finding her own pleasure, too.

Crowley is unusually quiet as she slathers the dildo in lube and gets back on the bed, shaking a little from the power of the vibrations. She lines the dildo up with his hole, using one hand to guide it in place; looking up at him, their gaze meets. Crowley nods.

It takes precision, and having had a lot of practice, to push her dildo against Crowley’s hole, to slowly slide the tip of it inside without the lube slipping it out again. Finally she manages it, then slides the rest of the dildo in, slowly, inch by inch.

Crowley lets out a shaky breath once she is fully seated.

“Y’feel so good,” he breathes.

“And I’m about to make you feel better,” Madame Tracy says with a wink. “Are you ready?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Crowley says. “Yes. Get on with it.”

She moves her hips, pulling the dildo halfway out and then pushing it back in. Crowley exhales hard. She pulls back again, changing the angle so that when she thrusts back in, he gives a loud, surprised gasp.

“C’mere,” Crowley says, beckoning her closer still.

Madame Tracy shifts her body so that she’s on top of him, her hard nipples pressing down against his solid chest. Her hips keep moving of their own accord, trying to grind more friction out of her vibrator, pushing in and out of Crowley in a whisper-soft, gentle rhythm like the ocean’s tide.

Crowley groans, pulling her head down so his lips can meet hers. His tongue creeps between her lips as soon as she opens them, and he moans, deep and throaty, like this is everything he’s ever wanted.

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” he sobs against her lips, eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m here, my dear, dear demon,” Madame Tracy murmurs. “My darling. My love.”

It’s not a lie so much as playacting, sexual roleplay; Crowley knows that Aziraphale hasn’t inhabited her body since the world was on the verge of apocalypse. 

“Yes,” Crowley says, “Yes, yes. Fuck me, angel.”

She fucks him hard, now, slamming the dildo into him, thrusting fast and erratic, her abs and hips aching. She reaches down to turn her vibrator up to its highest setting and gasps, the motion of her hips suddenly out of her control, whole body shaking in an immediate orgasm as spots crowd her vision.

“Fuck,” Crowley breathes, and Madame Tracy realizes with a start that he has one hand around his cock.

“Let me,” she says.

Crowley lets go and lets Madame Tracy grasp his cock, and grasp it hard this time. She slides her hand up and down his length, slippery with precum, as she moves her dildo in and out of him like a tidal wave, now, crashing against the shore.

Crowley comes silently, wordlessly, mouth open like he’s choking back words he can’t say. His cock spurts in Madame Tracy’s hands, covering them and a good part of his own chest with his sticky cum.

He’s panting, hard, nails still digging deep into Madame Tracy’s back. She leans her head down into the crevice between his neck and shoulder, turning the vibrator off with one hand as she works the dildo out of his ass, then relaxes into him.

It’s raining, now, drops pattering softly across the roof like a lullaby.

“I’ve loved him for so long,” Crowley says bitterly. “And he doesn’t — ”

“Shh,” Madame Tracy says, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve got you.”

His grip on her back slackens, and he rubs his hands up and down her back, subdued.

She can’t make Aziraphale love him. But she can do this for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr! cringehands.tumblr.com


End file.
